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But then Horace let out a sheepish laugh. “Well, you weren't the only one here-I admit it. Why didn't I come up with it on my own? I wonder if the telegraph between here and army HQ in the Valley is working.”
“Maybe we'd better find out, sir,” Dan said. The telegraph worked by electricity, and modern people still managed to use it… some of the time, anyhow. Dan didn't understand how they could do that but not make things like electric lights and refrigerators. He asked Captain Horace.
'“As I understand it, those need a lot more power than the telegraph does.” Horace said. “But just because I understand it that way doesn't prove it's so. I know a lot about electricity-for an army officer. If you want to get the straight ski
“I'd like to do that, sir, one of these days,” Dan said. “For now, we probably ought to see if we can catch the traders.”
“Right.” Going to the telegrapher took more time. Somewhere-was it really somewhere up north, somewhere in the Valley?-the traders' wagon was getting farther and farther away.
Will I ever see Liz again? Dan wondered. His head still ached dreadfully from the kick she'd given him. Do I want to see her again, after she did that? He did. In spite of everything, he did. The things she could tell him about the way her world worked-and the way this one did!
He still thought she was cute, too.
How could you think somebody was cute after she almost fractured your skull? He didn't know, but he did anyway. He was also sorrowfully aware that she didn't think he was cute.
She probably looked at him the same way he looked at the wild men who'd lost all traces of civilization. Dan didn't think that was fair. Well, the wild men probably didn't think his opinion of them was fair, either.
He didn't care what the wild men thought. Liz was much too likely not to care what he thought.
Captain Horace had him describe Liz and her parents for the telegrapher. He knew them better than anyone else from the Valley. But do I know them at all? he wondered. The captain described their wagon. Neither he nor Dan had seen that-they relied on what they'd heard from the traders in the Brentwood market square. Would it be enough? Dan couldn't know. He had to hope.
The telegrapher's clever finger sent Morse code north. Not long after he did, his clicker started making noise in reply. It wasn't magic, though Dan didn't fully understand why it wasn't. “They have the message, sir,” the telegrapher told the captain. “They'll do what they can.”
“Right on.” Horace said. “Far out.”
How far out was it? Dan had his doubts. The brass up in the Valley hadn't seen the marvels down here with their own eyes. How hard would they try to catch Liz and her folks? Would they put real effort into it, or just go through the motions? And how much did any of that matter? If the traders had headed north, wouldn't they be long gone by now?
Dan hoped not. They knew so much. They could do so much. How much could they help this world if only they wanted to? But they didn't- Liz had made that much too clear. There was no money in it for them. If they hadn't been studying this alternate, they wouldn't have come here at all.
Alternates… The idea made Dan 's head spin even worse than Liz 's foot had. All those possibilities, and each one coming true. A world where the Fire didn't fall. That one by itself was plenty to take Dan 's breath away. But it was far from the only thing that might have happened. He could see that, too.
He had a friend who'd become a secretary because a teacher praised his handwriting. If the teacher hadn't, Norm probably would have been a leatherworker like his father. And there were the guys who just happened to wind up at the wrong spot in a battle. If they'd stood a couple of feet to the left or right, they would have been fine. As things were, they stopped a bullet with their chest or their head.
So easy to see how changes, big changes, could turn a person's life upside down and inside out. And if a person's life could change that way, why couldn't a country's or a whole world's? No reason at all, not that Dan could see. When he thought about it in those terms, he had no trouble understanding why he believed Liz.
Besides, how could anybody make up a story like hers? And even if somebody did, how could she back it up with things that had been gone since the Old Time? Dan didn't think it was possible.
“Maybe we'll catch them yet,” Captain Horace said. “I bet we do.”
“Yes, sir. Maybe we will,” Dan answered. What else can I say? he wondered, and didn't see anything else. But he didn't believe it. The traders had too long a start. And they could disappear-they really could. What else was traveling between alternates but disappearing from one and appearing in another one? How were you going to catch somebody who could do that?
Very late that afternoon, a wire came in about somebody who'd got two pairs of denims from some people who might have been Liz and her folks. They were heading east, toward beautiful downtown Burbank. If they got there, King Zev 's soldiers would never lay a hand on them again.
Zev might threaten war to get them… Dan laughed at himself. Not a chance. With the Valley still fighting the Westside and Speedro, Zev couldn't make beautiful downtown Burbank mad at him, too. Fighting one war was bad enough. Fighting two wars at once had to be four times as bad, or maybe eight.
“Do you think they'll stay in beautiful downtown Burbank?” Horace asked him. “Or are they more likely to go somewhere else from there? If they do go somewhere else, where do you think it would be?”
This is the stuff you're supposed to worry about-you're the officer. Dan was learning to think like a sergeant in a hurry. But he did know Liz and her family better than the captain did. “Well, from what we found out, they came up from the south,” he answered “My guess is, they'd go back that way, too. Maybe they've got another watchamacallit-a transposition chamber- down there somewhere.”
“How far down there?” Captain Horace persisted. “The part of the Westside we didn't take? Speedro? Sandago? Teejay?”
“Sir,” Dan said mournfully, “I have no idea.” So many things about Liz and her folks he didn't know. So many things he wanted to know. So many things he knew he'd never find out. So many things he'd wonder about for the rest of his life.
One surfaced right now. If she came from this world or I came from hers, would she have liked me better? He could hope so, anyhow. And that led to another thought. If she was still working in the UCLA library, she and her folks hadn't found all of their answer, whatever it was. Maybe she'd be back one day to look for it. If we make this world more like the one she comes from, would people from there and people from here get along better?
Again, Dan could hope so. And he could do more than hope: he could work to make it so. He realized he suddenly had something to do with however much time he had left. He'd never known a feeling like that before. He… decided he liked it.
“Be it ever so humble, there's no place like… the Stoyadinoviches' trading post.” Dad looked pleased with himself. “That's an old saying I just made up.”
“I never would have guessed.” Liz gri
“Now, children.” Mom sounded amused, or maybe just resigned. Liz thought about asking which, then decided she'd rather not know.
“I wish we could have stayed longer this time around, but we did pretty well, anyway,” Dad said. “That stuff we found out about Molotov -nobody knew that about this alternate before.”
“Who's this 'we'?” Mom wondered. “You and your tapeworm? Liz did all the finding. You're just the guy who'll write the articles about it.”